


a brighter day

by labonnetouche



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: M/M, cactus, headphones, plants and pants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 13:50:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14190363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labonnetouche/pseuds/labonnetouche
Summary: Brinn + headphones + oops I slept with the opposition + cactus + others, when I get to them. Consider it the version of the world where these two can actually get together.





	a brighter day

**Author's Note:**

> I can't lie to you, partly this is on here because it makes me feel good and productive to have something to put up here and also it's handy to have an actual record of things that I've done.

It’s been - well, Steve isn’t absolutely sure how long it’s been, but it’s been a while. It’s been a while, and Stuart still isn’t at ease in Steve’s flat. Always the first up, his eyes flicker open and rest a while on Steve’s bare shoulder peeking out from above the duvet, faded milky skin next to the stark line of his bricklayer’s tan. He remembers kissing it, every time, because it’s the first place he goes for every time. Creature of habit is Stuart. 

Steve can hear, from bed, the padding of feet in last night’s socks about the flat, uncertain of what to do and where to go. He cracks open one eyelid. His t-shirt is missing. Creature of habit, is Stuart. 

He catches him, sometimes. The way he wanders around in Steve’s shirt and yesterday’s pants, folding himself into the sofa cushions to watch the cartoons, chin resting on knees hugged to his chest. The way he looks so uncertain of himself, pottering into the kitchen and taking three goes to find the teabags. He’s been here a dozen times, Steve thinks, but then, it’s the same routine each time. He’s caught him hovering by the window, the way he gives a gentle  _ hello _ to the cactus nested on the sill, designed to be something Steve can keep alive even at the risk of being away for four nights on a regular basis, and the way he goes to touch it slightly each time, just to say hello, and recoils, finding it spikier than he anticipated. 

He’ll get up in a second. He’ll get up, and Stuart will turn around and make some stupid joke about getting back before they catch him sleeping with the opposition again, not that it matters so much in county colours. Steve’s not a Fox, after all, and Stuart only goes south of the river once a summer. He’ll get up and wander into the kitchen and take off the ridiculously oversized headphones Stuart is wearing to drown own his doubts, and he’ll put his arms around his neck, and Stuart will smile, because he always smiles. 

A creature of habit. 


End file.
